didn’t want you coming here. That isn’t the reason I wrote.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. It was the first time in two weeks she’d let herself cry about this. She’d been afraid after she got his letter that she’d start bawling like a mama cow and she’d never be able to stop. “I never would have made it in time if not for that spring snowstorm.”
“I figure,” he said quietly, “that storm was the answer to a prayer for some folks.”
“An answer to a great many of them. How on earth did you get a letter posted so quickly?”
Aaron smiled at her through the bars, once more thinking of Uley. “I found someone who would help me.”
“So you said.”
“A youngster. Uley.” It was all he was going to say to her. He’d promised Uley never to reveal her secret. With all she’d done, she’d earned his vow. And by the solid ground under his feet, he would keep it with Beth, too. He heard someone coming toward them. “That’ll be Olney,” he told Beth.
He didn’t have time to say anything else. The marshal himself came in and gripped Elizabeth’s arm.
“Harris,” she said.
Eyes on eyes. Cold on cold. Like steel locked up against steel.
“Beth,” Olney said. “I tried to keep you from getting involved in this.”
“Aren’t you going to welcome me to Tin Cup, Harris?”
“Don’t reckon I will. I’m not real glad to see you.”
“Didn’t figure you would be.”
“Why did you let him follow me all the way out here? You’re the one with the cool head on your shoulders.”
“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, Harris. It isn’t a woman’s place to stand in the way.” Remembering the matter at hand, Beth untied the strings of her reticule. “Now tell me the amount of his bail so we can get paid up.”
Aaron stood behind her, looking at Olney over one of her delicate chintz-clad shoulders. Harris looked back and forth between the matching sets of eyes, both stubborn, both just as blue and clear as the water running down Willow Creek.
“You’re a stubborn woman, Elizabeth.”
“You did set bail, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” he said. “I just didn’t figure on anybody being around to meet it.”
“You’d best give me the figure, Harris.”
He stuck out his palm. “I just raised it to five hundred dollars.”
“All right, then,” she said boldly, handing him the bills. “Here it is.”
Aaron raked his fingers through his hair. “You shouldn’t be walking around with that much money. Anyone might have robbed you.” Fully half the people around here were no-good or bandits, come here to Tin Cup to chase the elusive promise of gold. They’d just as soon get money jumping someone in the streets as digging holes in the mountains.
Elizabeth laughed at him. “There are thirty men out in front of the jailhouse waiting to escort me to my next destination. I don’t suppose it would be safe for any one of them to ‘jump on me,’ Aaron. There would be twenty-nine others waiting to bring the one to justice. Now, Harris, I suggest you bring the key and unlock Aaron so that we may be on our way.”
Olney grudgingly obliged. “If it was up to me,” he grumbled, “I wouldn’t be letting you out, Brown.”
Elizabeth held out one gloved palm. “I’d like a receipt for my bail money, Harris.”
“We don’t have anything as fancy as receipts.”
“I would like a guarantee on my money. When Aaron shows up for his trial, I want every cent of it back.”
“Women! We don’t have any paper.” Elizabeth pulled two sheets of onionskin paper from her purse and handed them to Olney. The marshal hung the keys back on the peg, dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to scribble.
I, Aaron—a blotch—Brown, do solemnly swear to be at the Tin Cup Town Hall for the trial—another blotch—murdering Marshal Harris Olney by shooting him in the back.
“How can you write something about me murdering you? You’re standing right in front of me wording the thing.”
“Well, I’ve got to make you sign something now that I’ve turned you loose. Got to make sure you’ll come back for the trial.”
“Here.” Aaron reached for a second sheet of paper. “I’ll write it.”
“You go right ahead.” Harris dipped the pen and handed it to him.
I, Aaron Brown, do solemnly swear to appear at the Tin Cup Town Hall on the scheduled date at the scheduled hour to attend a trial in the court of law...
“Confound it.” Harris spit a wad of tobacco into the brass spittoon in the corner. “That’s enough already. Sign your name to it and be done.”
“Very well.” Aaron brandished the pen.
“Don’t forget about my receipt,” Elizabeth reminded the marshal, handing him another sheet of paper.
“I do hereby—blotch—acknowledge receipt of $500 for the bail of Aaron Brown. The money—blotch—be returned to Elizabeth Calderwood when Aaron Brown arrives to attend his trial. Signed on this day, April 25th, in the—blotch—year of 1882. Marshal Harris Olney.”
“Thank you, Marshal,” Elizabeth said, retrieving it victoriously and waving it so that the ink would dry. “We’ll see you on the day of the trial.”
“The trial is two days from now, Beth. We’ll expect Aaron there at nine on Thursday morning. I figure the hanging will be Friday.”
“We’ll see, Harris. We’ll see.”
“Beth.” Aaron touched her delicate, straight back with one of his grimy hands. “We’d best be leaving.”
Together, they marched out into the street where Elizabeth’s thirty-some-odd admirers were still waiting with profound patience.
“Show’s over, gentlemen.” Aaron kept his hand on the buttons at her waist. “The lady’s with me.”
“She won’t be with you very long, Brown,” Lesser Levy shouted. “Better enjoy the lady’s company until Friday. After that, it’ll be somebody else’s turn.”
“Ignore them,” Aaron whispered to her, pulling her closer.
“I have been.”
“Wish Olney had given me my gun back.”
“I
